


Beg, O Mighty One

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Begging, Brattiness, Dominant Reader, F/M, Female Reader, Pegging, Punishment, Strap-Ons, Submissive Lucio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: Lucio asks you for a specifically exquisite type of torture. You are happy to oblige, but you make him bite down on that wicked little tongue of his and beg for it first.





	Beg, O Mighty One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the smutty drabble game on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights). The prompt was "Sometimes I just need to be dominated, need to be broken in" for a female apprentice.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” You ask. The corners of your lips are tilted up just so, and you can’t hide the aroused lilt to your voice.

Before you, Lucio squirms from his position on the bed. He is on his back, arms crossed above his head and tied to the cast-iron of your bedframe through a series of intricate knots you had been practising just for him.

You had taken extra care to do said practising in front of him and about 20 of his most important and illustrious guests while they discussed matters of the state, under the guise that it was a ‘weird, magician thing’. Lucio’s eyes had darted to you every few seconds, the straining bulge of his pants visible only to you from your position in the corner. He had even let several groans slip as he had spoken to Valerius—a fact which he had taken care to punish you over that very same night, especially when you had refused to tell him what the knots had been for.

Now he knew though, and it was clear—despite the pouting and the wriggling and the petulant sighs escaping his parted lips—that he was quite liking what he was seeing so far. He always enjoyed the days where you were in charge.

“You’re doing this,” he answers, one of his dimples popping through as he gives you a sly, wicked little grin. “Because sometimes, I just need to be dominated—broken in. I’m a pouting, naughty little boy who enjoys some very debauched things.”

You purr for him, leaning forward to trace his jaw with the tip of your finger. His breathing picks up, and you lean in to bite down on his bottom lip.

“Oh, yes you are,” you agree, before pulling back and sauntering to the other side of the room, a little more sway to your hips.

You can hear him struggling against his binds as you make the final preparations for his punishment—or really, his reward. He had been begging for this for so long, and tonight was the night you finally delivered.

“Close your eyes, _pet_ ,” you call over your shoulder, placing particular emphasis on the name he is so fond of using for you. You hear him sigh, but a moment later, the sounds of his fidgeting die down.

It is only when you glance back and see that he has indeed closed his eyes, at least for the moment, that you turn and walk back toward him. In your hand is a tube of cherry-scented lubricant, which you open as you settle at the foot of the bed, eyeing the way his lips have turned to a flat line in his efforts to heed your requests despite his base instincts to fight them.

“You may look now.”

His eyes fly open, and he immediately begins to keen, thrashing against his bindings in an attempt to push his hips toward you.

“ _Yes_!” He hisses, or more pants. His eyes are devilishly wild as he devours the sight of you, cock strapped to your hips, squirting lubricant into your waiting palm. “Yes! Oh, pet—”

You close the lid of the lubricant tube with a snap that matches your voice. “You don’t get to use that name for me today.”

He grins wickedly. “Mistress, then?”

“Anything you want. But that name, _pet_ —” You smirk as you climb forward onto the bed on your knees, parting his trembling legs with your free hand. “Is mine tonight, and mine only.”

He jerks at the feel of your hand slipping between his ass cheeks, lifting his hips to give you better access. You circle his tight little hole with the tip of your index finger, ensuring the lubricant is everywhere it needs to be. His cock is already bobbing against his stomach, red and swollen; you wonder how long it will take for him to come, even with your plans never to touch it.

“Are you ready, pet?” You purr to him. He nods his head in jerking movements as you squirt more lubricant into your hand and slather it over the cock strapped to your hips, watching him with a tilted head.

You run your hand over his stomach to rid yourself of the excess lubricant—an action that causes the muscles there to twitch—then take his ankles and place each of them over one of your shoulders. Then, you turn your head to place a single, soft kiss to the exposed skin of his ankle.

“Beg for it.”

This makes him growl. “I already asked for it! I shouldn’t have to _beg_ —”

“Because you think you deserve it?”

“Because I am the Count of Vesuvia!”

“Not in my bed you’re not.” Your voice is quiet, almost dangerous, as you take hold of the cock and run it between his ass cheeks. He shivers beneath you, going quiet, and you know your words have beaten him into submission for the moment.

“One more chance: beg.”

Lucio’s jaw tightens as he watches you toy with the cock, so close to where he wants you—where he knows you will never go unless he obeys you. Because he asked for this. Because he wanted to be fucked by you. Because he _wanted_ to be dominated. Broken in.

“Please,” he says, the word barely above a choked whisper. His eyes meet yours, wide and a little desperate, as his limbs tremble for your touch. “Please fuck me.”

In one smooth movement, you guide the head of the cock to his tight little ring and push it in. He groans, his entire body tensing and then immediately melting into the mattress. You inch a little further in and watch as he throws his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, knuckles white against the ropes binding him to your bed.

“There’s a good boy,” you tell him. You run your palms up the back of his thighs and give another short thrust, sending the cock a little deeper. He lets out a yelp that quickly melts into a moan, and then a string of incoherent babble as you become fully seated in him.

“Do you want me to move?” You ask, after a few moments of watching him struggle to speak, struggle to _breathe_.

“Yes!” He gasps out. “Please move, oh you feel so good in my ass p—” He cuts himself off before he says it. His eyes open and land on you, a wicked little glint to them. “Mistress. Please fuck me, mistress. Destroy my tight little hole, break me in like the devious, petulant little thing that I am.”

You lean forward, cock still fully seated inside of him, to kiss him. He takes your kiss greedily, allows you to swirl your tongue inside of his mouth to claim every hole in his body at once. He even sucks on your tongue, soft and sweet and just the way you like, the action causing you to whimper and weaken just a little.

But you don’t forget who is in charge. Not tonight, not when he’s still trembling beneath you as you pull back, not when the muscles of his thighs twitch beneath your palms, not when his cheekbones are high with the flush of his arousal for you.

Oh, no. _You_ are in charge tonight.

And you won’t let the trembling, petulant little Count writhing beneath you ever forget it.


End file.
